


Broken by Anarchy

by Pandora151



Series: Broken [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Post-Episode: s05e16 The Lawless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:23:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora151/pseuds/Pandora151
Summary: Obi-Wan returns to the Temple after war and destruction breaks out on Mandalore.





	Broken by Anarchy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This is the third part of the Broken series.
> 
> Enjoy!

Anakin woke up to the sound of his commlink beeping insistently at him.  He groaned and flipped over onto his stomach before grabbing at the offending object with his left hand.  Pulling the commlink to his face, he pressed a button.

“Skywalker,” he mumbled into the commlink.

_“Anakin.”_

The voice was quiet but immediately familiar.  Anakin sat up, suddenly more awake.  “Obi-Wan?” he asked.  When his former Master asked him to borrow the _Twilight_ about a week ago, Anakin expected him to return in about a day or two.  He had wondered for the past few days where Obi-Wan went, but between teaching Ahsoka and spending time with Padmé, he never exactly got the time to ask.

_“Anakin, I—”_

Obi-Wan’s voice was hoarse, though it might be the signal.  “I can’t hear you very well, Obi-Wan,” Anakin replied.

 _“I need to reach the Council,”_ Obi-Wan said, louder now.  _“It’s urgent.”_

Anakin looked at the chrono.  “It’s well past midnight,” he said.  Then he realized something else.  “Why are you contacting me?  Send a message out to Master Windu or Master Yoda.”

Silence.  Anakin could hear a crackling sound coming from the commlink, which meant that they were still connected.

“Obi-Wan?” he tried again.

 _“I’m—”_ Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet again, holding a hint of something strange, something unfamiliar.  _“Right.  I’ll speak to Master Windu.”_

Before Anakin could reply, his commlink disconnected.

“That was weird,” Anakin mumbled.  Placing the commlink back on his bedside table, he lay down on his back and fell asleep once again.

* * *

“You are aware that you went against the Council’s orders, Master Kenobi,” Mace said, fingers steepled.

Kenobi didn’t reply.  His eyes were a blank grey slate, and there were fading bruises on his face, easily visible in the dim light of the Council Chambers.  His presence in the Force was almost nonexistent, shrouded in heavy shields.

“Say something, you must,” Yoda said, frowning.  He leaned forward in his seat, as though he was studying Obi-Wan carefully.

Kenobi looked back at him and then sighed.  “Mandalore has fallen into a state of war,” he said finally.  “They want our support.”

Mace frowned.  “The Duchess requested this?” he asked.

Obi-Wan didn’t reply immediately.  His lips pressed together, as though he was thinking deeply about what he wanted to say next.

“Duchess Satine Kryze is dead,” Obi-Wan said finally, his voice echoing slightly, startling Mace and a few of the other Councilors.  “She—she was killed.”

Silence echoed in the Chambers.  Mace glanced at Master Yoda, who was staring at Kenobi with a soft expression in his eyes.

Mace exhaled.  Kenobi really didn’t deserve this, any of it.  It seemed nothing had been going right for him, not since…

Not since a very long time ago.

Mace knew that if there was no war, and if Kenobi wasn’t so necessary, so vital to the Republic effort, Mace would have pulled him away from all of it a long time ago.

Reality, however, dictated otherwise.

“That is…that is unfortunate, Obi-Wan,” Mace said finally.  Obi-Wan turned towards him slightly, almost in acknowledgment.

“Maul joined forces with the Death Watch,” Obi-Wan continued, almost tonelessly, as though he was talking about something that didn’t affect him at all.  “And together, they took over Mandalore’s government, and then set up a very elaborate trap.”

Plo Koon leaned forward, brows furrowed.  “A trap?” he echoed.

Obi-Wan let out a breathless laugh.  “For me,” he said bluntly.  “And I walked into it, like a fool.”  For a fleeting moment, his shields seemed to slip, and Mace felt keening agony flood into the Force, almost overwhelming his senses.  A split-second later, the pain easily snapped away, as though it was never there in the first place.

“Obi-Wan—”

“Later, we will discuss this,” Yoda said, lifting a clawed hand to cut off Mace.  “Tired, you must be, Obi-Wan.  Sleep, you should.  Come to your quarters later, I will.”

Obi-Wan’s face broke into a smile, an empty smile that froze the gathering hollowness in Mace’s chest into ice.

_How could we have let this happen?_

“Very well, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan replied.  He turned around and left the Council Chambers, the clanging sound of his borrowed Mandalorian armor echoing as he walked away.

Once the door closed, Yoda sighed, burying his face in his hands.

“Master Yoda?” Kit asked with a hint of concern, leaning forward in his seat.  For the first time, Mace realized he wasn’t smiling, and he hadn’t smiled in a long time.  He couldn’t even remember when Kit last smiled, just that the ever-present grin was just gone, gone gone…

Yoda shook his head mournfully.  “Broken, Obi-Wan is,” he murmured.

The Council fell into silence, only to be broken by a wide-eyed Stass Allie, the newest member of the Council, only because of Adi’s death.  “What do we do?” she asked softly.

Mace closed his eyes.  “What _can_ we do?” he murmured, and Council lapsed into silence yet again, unable to come up with an answer.

* * *

When Anakin returned to the apartment, he didn’t exactly expect to see Obi-Wan sitting at the kitchen table, staring out of the kitchen window.

“Oh!  I didn’t know you got back,” Anakin said in greeting, moving forward to sit in the chair next to Obi-Wan.  “Where were you?”

Obi-Wan hummed, eyes flicking away from the window to stare at the mug he was holding.  “Mandalore,” he replied, almost nonchalantly.  He took a sip from his mug, glancing at Anakin.

“Mandalore?” Anakin echoed, tilting his head.  “Why?  Did something happen?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, voice colored with a sickening mirth.  “If by ‘something’ you mean Maul and the Death Watch joining forces, taking over Mandalore, and imprisoning and killing its Duchess, _all_ in the name of a crazed Sith Lord’s revenge?”

Obi-Wan put the mug down on the table; the sound of it hitting the table was harsh, grating.  His eyes were wide, bright with unfamiliar emotion.

“Then, yes,” Obi-Wan continued hoarsely.  “ _Something_ did happen.”

Anakin stared, completely stunned.  “Force, Master,” he breathed, finally noticing the way that Obi-Wan was almost slumped on the chair, as though he felt completely lost, completely _defeated_.  Anakin hadn’t ever seen him like that before.  “That’s—that’s _awful_.”

Obi-Wan exhaled, bringing the mug up to his mouth again and taking a long sip.  “Well, if it’s any consolation, Mandalore is requesting help from the Republic now.  They’re no longer neutral,” he said.

It wasn’t a consolation, not _really_ , but Anakin remained silent, unsure of what to say to make things right.

Talking to Obi-Wan had been difficult lately.  There was a chasm expanding between them, ever since Obi-Wan faked his death and went undercover as his own murderer.  And they’ve both been so busy, _too_ busy to build a bridge, to fix any of it.

It eventually led to Obi-Wan finding out that the Sith Lord he faced on Naboo all those years ago, the one that killed Master Qui-Gon, was still alive.  His first encounter with Maul on Raydonia nearly killed him, _would have_ killed him if Ventress didn’t show up, according to Obi-Wan.

Anakin still wasn’t sure if he believed that Ventress was now on their side.  Ventress was an _enemy_ , even if she wasn’t associated with Dooku anymore.  She was dangerous, an assassin.

“So now what?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged a shoulder and downed the rest of his drink.  He stood up and walked over to the sink.  Normally, he would have placed the mug in the washing unit, but instead he washed it himself, scrubbing at the mug with a damp cloth.

“What now?” Anakin repeated.

“I don’t know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied tonelessly, still scrubbing furiously at the mug.  His eyebrows were furrowed, completely focused scrubbing out every single stain.  “Mandalore is at war, and _Maul_ is at the head of it, and—”

The mug broke, pieces clattering into the sink.

Obi-Wan exhaled, staring into the sink.  “I’ll clean this up,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Anakin.  His eyes were wide now, almost confused.  His voice was rough again, reminding Anakin of the damage the vocal emulator wrought while Obi-Wan was undercover as Rako Hardeen.

“I can fix it,” Obi-Wan continued, reaching into the sink.  “I just—I just need to—”

“Master, I can do it,” Anakin interrupted, pulling himself to his feet.  “I’m sure you have other things to do.”  He walked over to Obi-Wan and looked down at the sink, at the broken pieces of ceramic resting inside.

Now that he was standing next to him, Anakin could see the dark smudges under Obi-Wan’s eyes, the fading bruises on his face.  His eyes were grey, almost completely lifeless.  Anakin looked down at the sink again, where Obi-Wan’s hands were frozen in place.

“I’ll take care of it,” Anakin said again, more softly, feeling as though Obi-Wan didn’t hear him the first time.

In a single moment, Obi-Wan seemed to break out of his stupor.  He shook his head, and he began to reach for the broken pieces of the mug, carefully taking them out of the sink.

“No, it’s fine, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied quietly.  “I can fix this.”

“Master—”

“ _Anakin_.”

Anakin stared at him, struggling to figure out what to say next.  He didn’t even know what he was _trying_ to do.  A part of him raged at his confusion, raged at the fact that Obi-Wan didn’t even deserve his help, not after his fake-death, his _deception_.

Obi-Wan was staring at him again, but his hands continued to move, to pull the shards out of the sink and place them in the disposal unit.  The Force was shaking, almost screaming, and Anakin felt as though he was swept up in its currents, unable to pinpoint _why_.

“Fine,” Anakin spat, gritting his teeth.  “You want to be alone, Obi-Wan?  _Fine_.”  He spun around and left, deciding to seek out Ahsoka for a spar or something.

He needed a distraction from all of this, anyways.

* * *

Obi-Wan drew his focus away from Anakin, away from _everything_ , and continued taking pieces of broken mug out of the sink.

This was _his_ mess, _his_ failure.  It was _his_ responsibility to fix it.

And if he refused to even think about what happened, to slow down and _stop_ , there wouldn’t be a problem at all.

He couldn’t stop, not like this.  Not now.

So Obi-Wan drew all his focus to what he was doing right at this moment, not to the past and his mistakes, or to the future and the consequences of his failure.

Now, right _now_.  That was all that mattered.

It took him about ten minutes to take out all the broken pieces of the mug from the sink and to clean the sink of any tea stains.

And then he froze.

_Now what?_

Now…now, he needed to work.  There were forms and reports that he needed to attend to, and he’d been meaning to meet with Cody about some mission reports that needed his input.  He could get started on those, drown himself in his work, and forget everything else…

Obi-Wan pushed himself away from the sink, walking out of the kitchen into the living area.  Picking up the datapad he left on the caf table earlier, he sat down on the couch.  Right at that moment, however, the buzzer sounded.

Sighing, he put the datapad back down on the table and walked to the door.

“Master Yoda?” He remembered that Master Yoda said he was going to come to his quarters, but he didn’t think he actually would.  Not after finding out about all his mistakes, his failures.

“Come in, may I?” Yoda asked, gesturing slightly.  His voice was quiet, almost gentle.

Obi-Wan moved out of the way, allowing the Grandmaster to walk in, cane tapping quietly against the floor.

“Slept, have you, Obi-Wan?” Master Yoda asked as he sat himself on the couch, looking at Obi-Wan expectantly.

“A little,” Obi-Wan replied.  It was an easy lie, one that he hoped Yoda would believe.

Yoda looked up at him before gesturing at the spot next to him.

Exhaling, Obi-Wan sat down next to him, letting his hands fall to his sides.  He felt the urge to pull at his fingers or just fidget, but he forced it away, focusing instead on Yoda.

“What…what has the Council decided?” Obi-Wan asked finally.  “About Mandalore?  I know it was wrong for me to leave like that, Master.  But I need to know that we’ll make things right, that we’ll help them.”

Yoda closed his eyes.  “Decide, the Senate must.  You know that, Obi-Wan,” he murmured.

He found himself thinking about the Trade Federation’s blockade on Naboo all those years ago, only this was worse, so much worse.

“They’re asking for our help, Master,” Obi-Wan replied.  This was his fault— _all_ of it.  And now Satine was dead, and there were innocent people on Mandalore, suffering and dying, all because of him.  Because he couldn’t kill Maul all those years ago, even after he killed Qui-Gon.

It wasn’t enough.  Nothing he ever did was enough.

“Know that, I do,” Yoda responded.  He opened his eyes again and poked Obi-Wan gently with a clawed finger.  “Your fault, this is not.”

 _It is_ , Obi-Wan wanted to say, but instead he nodded slowly.  “Why are you here, Master Yoda?” he asked.

“Honest, I will be, Obi-Wan,” Yoda sighed, ears drooping.  “Worried, I am.  About you.”

Obi-Wan breathed out a laugh.

“That’s really unnecessary, Master,” he replied.  “I’m fine.”  He was _fine_ , he was sure of it.  He had no choice but to be fine.  Sure, Satine was dead, Anakin refused to talk to him, and sometimes the reality of his failures pressed down on him so much that he felt like he couldn’t breathe…but none of that mattered.

He was _fine_.

Yoda stared at him for a long moment before he bowed his head.  “Very well,” he mumbled.  Obi-Wan watched as he jumped off the couch and began to walk slowly towards the door.  Obi-Wan stood up slowly, taking a few steps forward.

“Master Yoda?” Obi-Wan croaked, wincing slightly as his raw throat protested the sound he just made.

Yoda turned around to face him, brows raised.

“Everything will be alright, right?” Obi-Wan asked softly.

It was something he used to ask Yoda when he was a youngling, particularly in the night, after his more difficult visions.  As the years wore on and on and his visions decreased, settling into sort-of-premonitions (or “bad feelings”) that came and went easily, Obi-Wan stopped asking Yoda for that sort of reassurance.

But, somehow, now…he found himself craving it again.  He _needed_ to know that in the end, everything would be alright.  Otherwise…

Yoda pressed his lips together, suddenly looking so much older than he already was.  “Trust in the Force, you must, Obi-Wan,” he replied.

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, watching as Yoda opened the door and left the apartment, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for happy endings, amirite?
> 
> So, there will be a fourth (and presumably final) part to this series. I don't want to give away too much about it, but it will be a lot more AU than the first three parts of this series. So stay tuned!
> 
> Thanks for reading and please leave a comment :)


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